


Trust Me

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Abandonment, Coming Out, Family Drama, Grief/Mourning, Homophobia, M/M, Team as Family, this might hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected loss send Tommy all the way back—to suburban New Jersey, to attend his mother's funeral and deal with the mess he still sort of thinks of as his family. Not really like <em>Garden State</em>, no matter how suspiciously similar it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zethsaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zethsaire/gifts).



> Thank you to Billywick and Zethsaire for reading this as I wrote it, and to MalevolentCosmicEntity for putting up with me reading it _to_ him. This story is also dedicated to Zethsaire. And it might make you cry, fair warning.
> 
> Based on this piece of art by Zethsaire:

 For warriors, love is a comparison of scars.

People who _aren't_ warriors don't always understand. Everyone has scars, true, but most people keep them hidden, tucked away inside their chests and not available for comment. It takes a lot to find them. But warriors wear their battles on their skin, plain for all the world to see, and so when they fall in love, it often starts with, “See this one? This one I got from...”

They have a means of connection.

The story begins: a day spent in the sun. It had taken some effort or everyone on the team to get the same weekend off, what with work and summer classes and the general rush of life, but they'd managed to find the time. The Bishops owned a house on the cape with a private beach, so that's where they'd gone—not such a long trip when you have a friend who can teleport you there. Peace, quiet, sun, sand, and easy access to any pizza place on the planet. Ideal.

So now, Kate was lying on her stomach on a towel, trying to get a tan. She was supposed to be doing the assigned reading for one of her business classes, but it was far too hot, so instead she was reading an aggressively trashy romance novel that she'd picked because the cover made her laugh. Eli sat next to her, rubbing suntan lotion onto her back with one hand and holding a book of his own in the other. On her other side, America and David—a new addition to their group, but a welcome one—were building a sand replica of the Winchester House and arguing at some length about Proust.

Nobody invited Loki, not really, but he showed up anyway, and he looked so lonely that they couldn't quite bear to turn him away—and he'd actually been tolerable lately. He didn't own a swimsuit, so they had to stop at the store for him, and now he was looking even younger than usual, wearing a pair of overlarge green trunks cinched at the waist and a swim shirt that covered his arms and with his hair falling in his eyes. He'd tucked himself into a corner where two rocks met, away from the rest of the group, and while they all relaxed he stared into a tide pool, drawing circles on the surface of the water with his fingers.

The other four were in the ocean. They'd been swimming before, but somehow that had transitioned into a rowdy game of Chicken, Billy perched precariously on Teddy's shoulders and Tommy on Noh-Varr's. Currently the score stood at two falls to two, with one draw when the competition had gotten too hot and the brothers had fallen together.

Tommy crowed, his wet hair gleaming in the sun. “The enemy is weakened, Noh-Varr! _Charge!_ ”

“I thought we talked about you giving me orders,” Noh-Varr said, even as he barrelled forward.

“Yeah, yeah, bedroom only, let's _go!_ ”

“Oh my _god,_ Tommy, we don't need to know about your oh _shit!_ ”

_“Triumph!”_

Teddy was doubled over laughing even as he helped Billy up. “He gives you _orders?_ You don't seem like the type.”

“They're more like strongly worded suggestions.” Noh-Varr shrugged, nearly knocking Tommy off himself. “I like to take my time about things, but he gets very impatient. I don't always listen to him.”

“Sounds like Billy. Does he do that little leg-kicking thing when you—”

Teddy was abruptly silenced by Billy's hand over his mouth. The twins looked at each other seriously, and Billy said, “This has to stop.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, seriously.”

“Teddy, up.”

“Yes, master.”

“Don't you _even._ What do you think, Tom?” Billy got himself situated on his husband's shoulders. “Blind round?”

Tommy nodded. “Blind round.”

Teddy and Noh-Varr glanced at each other and said, simultaneously, “ _Blind_ round?”

Tommy clapped a hand over Noh-Varr's eyes. “You trust me, babe?”

Noh-Varr let out a barking laugh. “I trust you.”

_“Charge!”_

And once more the pairs charged, raising a sheet of spray, and—

—missed each other entirely, _all_ toppling into the water.

On the beach, David keeled over laughing, narrowly avoiding destroying the sand house. Kate snorted into her book, America said something cheerfully rude in Spanish that Noh-Varr made a face at and which made David laugh even harder, and Eli shouted, “You know, under the circumstances, I think it's time to call for pizza.”

“And maybe you should switch up the teams next time.” David had successfully managed to avoid destroying the work he and America had put into their sculpture, although he was still choking down laughter. “Twins versus aliens, maybe.”

Tommy was at their blanket in seconds, phone in hand, grinning. “Yeah, but Billy's got those skinny little wizard arms, I think we'd just lose.” He hit the speed dial. “Yeah, I want an order for pickup. Oh, hey, _Enzo!_ Yeah, it's me. How's your wife? How's Lucia doing in school? The usual. Company usual, not just me and Noh. I'll be there in five.”

 

\--

 

“How do you know that guy? Seriously?”

“His daughter was having trouble at school. Well, one of his daughters. I gave him some legal advice.” Tommy grinned around his slice of pizza. “Then he tried to set me up with another one. Took me a while to explain that I was married.”

America raised an eyebrow. “How many daughters does he _have?_ ”

“Four. Two mutants, two flatlines. And five sons, and two of them are mutants too. Pass the red pepper?”

David leaned across the blanket with the shaker, and the light caught a long scar on his arm.

Kate whistled. “What's _that_ from? If you don't mind my asking.”

“Nothing exciting.” David shrugged. “Childhood swingset accident.” A pause, and then he started to grin. “ _This_ one, though,” pointing to a jagged line on his shin, “ _this_ one was from a Sentinel.”

Teddy was the one whistling this time, and Eli snorted. “O- _ho._ _Big_ man. Well, here, check _this_ out.” He twisted so they could see the spreading sunburst on his hip. “Siege of Asgard, right here.”

“ _Riiiight._ Mr. Super-Solider, proud of his _one_ scar. Take a look at _mine._ ” Billy looked like he was suppressing laughter. “ _I_ took a hit from _Venom_ once. _This_ asshole, though, _he_ doesn't scar, or we'd _match._ ”

“Nope. Smooth as a baby's bottom. I'd say smooth as _Billy's—_ ” Teddy ducked under a swat, “but _he_ scars, so he _isn't_ really hey hey no fair don't _tickle_ me!”

America rolled her eyes. _“Boys.”_

“Oooh, high and mighty.” He twisted out of Billy's grip. “What about you, then? Does the great Miss A have any scars she'd like to share?”

“Yeah, I've got one.” She grabbed another slice of pizza as one of the boxes went by. “You can't see it, though.”

“No?”

“It's private.” Kate headbutted America's shoulder gently. “Privileged information.”

“So _you've_ seen it, then.”

“Theodore Rufus Altman, what I have and have not seen on Missy's body is none of your business.”

“Well, what about you?” Eli caught one of Kate's upraised ankles, tracing the edge of an old burn scar with the tip of one finger. “You never told me where this one was from.”

“Oh. Well, uh.” She glanced away. “That one was from Jonas, actually. Because, you know, there were...sparks. When...”

“ _Oh._ Right. Um...”

The air was tense and awkward for a moment, and then Kate rolled over and stretched luxuriously. “ _This_ one, though, this one on my ribs? You guys remember when Ronan the Accuser showed up at the wedding reception?”

“He had very poor timing.” Noh-Varr ate a chicken wing, bone and all. “We'd just cut the cake.”

“...do _you_ have a scar to share?”

“Quite a few of them. Most of them don't have interesting stories, though.” He paused for a moment. “Although there _is_ the one from when we ran into the alternate Marvel—”

_“Nope.”_

Tommy had spoken with such vehemence that everyone turned to look at him, and Billy blinked. “Why nope?”

“Not happening. You guys don't get to see that one.”

“I don't see why not, it's just on my—”

“Nope! No dice.”

Teddy was covering a smile. “All those in favor of seeing Noh-Varr's interesting scar, raise your hand.”

Everyone's hand went up, and Tommy said, irritably, “America, you don't even _like_ guys.”

She smiled serenely. “I make exceptions.”

“Well, I say no, and I have veto.”

Noh-Varr smiled. “As you wish. Loki, do you have any scars?”

Loki almost shrank into his swim shirt when everyone turned to look at him, faintly abashed. “None visible, I'm afraid. Ah. But. Tommy hasn't shared.”

Tommy's eyes flicked to the side. “Most of mine aren't interesting. Except, well...” he held up his right arm, the inside of which was lightly pitted with what could have been fifty or a hundred tiny marks. “Got this when I was eleven. Early power manifestation. I'd been having nightmares, blew up my dad's car. Mostly I was fine, only it took out a tree in the yard too, and _that_ left splinters.” He shifted, and then suddenly flung his outstretched arm around David's shoulders. “So! David. _As_ your attorney, I'd strongly advise you to snag that last slice of anchovy pizza before either of our resident Kree notice that it's still there.”

“You're not my attorney, Tom,” David said as he reached for the pizza.

“No, I'm just the guy who helps you out whenever some phobic piece of shit hauls you in front of the Honor Board. Mutant _solidarity,_ man.”

“Oh my god.” Billy buried his face in his hands. “You're starting to sound like Quentin. I should never have introduced you to him.”

“I'm gonna call him and tell him you said that. I think he'll be flattered.”

The group dissolved into a chorus of “no”s, but Tommy's phone was already in his hand. He winked at them, grinning.

The phone rang before he could go for the speed dial.

Teddy frowned. “Is that little pink-haired monster pulling his 'don't call me, I'll call you' shtick again?”

“No...” Tommy stared at the caller ID. “I...don't actually recognize this number. Hang on.” He thumbed it on and raised it to his ear. “Lensherr.”

Everyone else watched curiously as his eyebrows drew down.

“Yes, that _was_ my name, but I—you're—how did _you_ get this number? ...yes, sorry, hi, Aunt Alice.”

And for a moment everyone was looking at _Noh-Varr,_ who shrugged, just as baffled as they were.

“Yes, I know. Yes, it has been a while. No, I haven't bothered to call.” He scowled. “Well, why _should_ I, it's not like—what? ...no, seriously, what is it?”

The others waited with bated breath.

Tommy's expression was suddenly shuttered. “Oh. I. I see.” A long pause. “...was she drunk?” Whatever the response was to that, he winced. “I. Thank you for telling me. _Yes,_ of course I'll be there, don't _yell._ When? ...ok. ...goodbye, Aunt Alice.”

He thumbed his phone off, stared at it for a moment, and then hurled it into the ocean.

Before anyone could protest he'd blurred away, reappearing a moment later with his totally unsoaked phone in hand. He dropped wordlessly to the sand and leaned against Noh-Varr's side, eyes wide.

It was America who finally said, “Tommy. What's going on?”

“I have to go back to Jersey.”

“Did something happen?”

“My mother is dead.” He gazed at the ocean for a moment. “I need to call Granddad.”

 

\--

 

Billy got them to New Jersey. Not the whole team this time—it wasn't that kind of trip. Just himself, Tommy, Noh-Varr, and the powerful but aged man commonly known as Magneto.

_They_ didn't call him that, of course. Billy and Noh-Varr called him Erik. Tommy called him Granddad, which made Erik smile a bit every time he heard it.

Billy looked around, uncertain, as they materialized. “Did I do it right? Is this the place?”

“This is the place.” Tommy didn't look happy about it. “Welcome to Milton Falls, New Jersey, site of the rise and fall of Thomas Eric Shepherd. And _that,_ down the road there, is where my Aunt Alice lives, and we better hurry up before she flips her shit.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Is she likely to?”

“ _Oh_ yeah. Well. Flips her shit _more._ She's already going to flip her shit when she finds out that I'm not going to stay with her.” He paused and looked them over. “And when she sees who I brought with me.”

“I take it she's a bit backwards.”

“She's an evangelical Christian living in suburban New Jersey.”

“Practically Neanderthal, then.”

Tommy laughed suddenly. “Yeah, pretty much. My caveman roots. ...anyway, I guess we should get down there.”

He walked so slowly that first Billy, and then Noh-Varr, and then even Erik began to worry—when it came to Tommy, nothing was stranger than a measured pace. As they passed each clean house, each trimmed lawn, he moved slower and slower, and by the time they were moved up the gnome-lined path to Aunt Alice's house it was like fighting through molasses. It took ages to reach the door, and another age to ring the doorbell.

“Be right there!”

Tommy tensed visibly.

There was a sound of feet, a brief bark as a dog was shooed away from something, and then the front door opened.

“Thomas?”

Tommy swallowed hard and said, “Hi, Aunt Alice.”

Aunt Alice was a thin, wiry woman an inch or two shorter than Tommy. She had pale green eyes, pale blonde hair, pale skin with a few pale freckles—everything was pale about her, as if she'd been leeched of color. She had on shimmery pink lipstick and a little too much blush, and her face looked a bit like Tommy's—not a close resemblance, but her fine-boned features looked enough like her nephew's that it was easy to see the relation.

Her eyes were red from crying, but as she looked over Tommy and the others they narrowed. The corners of her mouth turned down. “You brought guests. To a funeral.”

“They're not guests.”

“What are they, then? Your entourage?”

“They're—they're _family._ ”

She looked suspicious now. “From your father's side?”

“It's complicated.” He glanced back at them, steeling himself. “Aunt Alice, this is my husband. Noh-Varr.”

Noh-Varr said “I am pleased to meet you, ma'am. And I'm sorry for your loss.” He didn't smile.

Alice had frozen, what little color she had draining from her face.

“This is Bill Altman, my...brother.”

“My condolences, ma'am.”

“And—”

“Erik Lensherr.” Erik almost seemed to be _enjoying_ himself. “It's a pleasure to meet you, although I fear the circumstances are less than congenial. I've been curious to meet my grandson's...other relations.”

_He_ simply reached out and took her hand, and she shook, tight-lipped.

“Guys, this is my aunt, Alice Collins.”

Alice said, slowly, sounding strained, “It's. Very nice to meet you all. Thomas, can I have a word?”

Before anyone could say anything, she'd grabbed Tommy by his collar, hauled him into the house, and shut the front door in everyone else's faces.

He pulled away from her, startled. “The hell was _that?_ ”

She glared at him. “Are you playing some kind of _joke?_ Is this a _stunt_ or something? Because I have to say, it's in _poor_ taste.”

“Is it a _what?_ No!” He managed to disentangle his collar from her grip and stepped back. “Why th' _fuck_ would I be making jokes right now? My _mother_ is _dead._ ”

“You don't. Have. A brother. And that man is _certainly_ not Henry Shepherd.”

“Look, it's a complicated fucking situation and I'm _really_ not in the mood to explain shit right now.”

“And the...the...” she gestured incoherently, eyes wild. “The. Your. _Person._ ”

“My husband.”

“He's—” Her nostrils flared. “Not in _my house._ I will _not_ have that kind of behavior in _my house._ ”

Tommy shrugged. “Fine by me, we're not staying here. We got rooms at the Doubletree.”

“Thomas Shepherd, do you have any _idea_ the kind of _peril_ your—”

“Don't even fucking _start,_ Aunt Alice, I swear to _fucking_ God.” He ignored the way her mouth snapped shut, the furious look on her face. “Look, we only stopped by to let you know we'd gotten here, find out when things were happening.”

She stared at him for a moment, livid, but then her shoulders sagged abruptly. “I...the funeral is tomorrow at noon. At the church first. You know the place.” A pause. “We're having a family dinner tonight. So everyone can catch up. I reserved the big room at the Ninety-Nine, just...get there at six-thirty. Theresa got here this morning with John and the kids. We'll all have dinner together.” And then, as if it was physically difficult to say, “You can bring your...person. _People._ ”

He snorted. “Yeah, you definitely made them feel welcome,” and then shouted in surprise when she crumpled forward, wrapping her arms around him.

“Oh, Tom,” she said into his chest, and he could feel the front of his shirt getting wet. “Oh, Thomas, my sister is _dead._ ”

 

\--

 

“What is an aunt?”

Tommy flopped back on the hotel bed and stared at the ceiling. “Noh, you have the entire _language_ memorized. You _know_ what an aunt is.”

“I know the meaning of the _word._ She's the sister of one of your parents.” Noh-Varr was unpacking, setting out their toothbrushes, hanging up their suits. “The _concept_ still eludes me. Why is she relevant? What is she _for,_ in the context of your life?”

“I...she's relevant because she's my _aunt._ ”

“So her blood relationship to you gives her authority?”

“I guess? It's just. It's how this all _works._ ”

“You don't seem to like her very much.”

“I _don't._ She's bossy, she's nosy, she's close-minded, and...and she _knew_ Mom drank too much and never _did_ anything about it. Just waved the Bible in her face and didn't actually help.”

Noh-Varr gazed at the closed-off look on Tommy's face and decided not to pursue this line of questioning any further. As a rule Tommy didn't like to discuss his family. “Who else will be at this dinner?”

“My other aunt, Terry, and probably her kids and her moron husband. Nobody else I can think of, otherwise, I don't have any grandparents left.”

“Your father?”

Tommy shivered. “Aunt Alice hates my father.”

_Knock knock._ “Hey, Tom. Can we come in?”

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second.”

Then the room was _full_ of family—Billy dropping down on the bed next to his brother, Erik taking the armchair and sitting straight-backed and stately. They'd already dressed for dinner; Billy's shirt was crisp and pressed, a rich dark blue.

Tommy glanced at his brother and grinned. “Glad to see you've got your stars on.”

There were two of them at Billy's throat—one with five points, one with six, connected by a slim golden chain. “I'm hoping they'll help me avoid getting dragged to church by your aunt.”

“Probably a good plan. What about you, Granddad?”

Erik chuckled. “My boy, I've dealt with many people who frightened me _far_ more than your aunt.”

“Well...yeah, I guess, but she gets pretty scary.” He paused. “But probably not at you. You're older, you're _European_...once she calms the fuck down she'll probably think you're pretty much the greatest.”

“Perhaps. Unless she recognizes me from the news. _I_ have been a wanted man for longer than _you_ have been alive.”

“Tommy.” Noh-Varr had finished with the luggage. “We need to change.”

“Right. Right, yeah. Clothes.” Tommy rolled off the bed, reached for the shirt Noh-Varr had picked out for him—and stopped, staring at it, eyes wide. “Wait, no, I can't do this.”

Noh-Varr frowned. “Why not?”

“I can't do this, I can't just go _talk_ to them, I can't just go see them all and pretend like they don't think I'm a _freak._ ” He'd started to shake. “I, I don't want to _see_ them, I don't want to _deal_ with them, I _can't._ I can't _do_ it.”

Noh-Varr was moving towards him, Billy had gotten up off the bed, but _Erik_ was there first, wrapping his arms around Tommy's shoulders.

Tommy went tense and then pressed his face into the front of his grandfather's jacket. “I can't. I can't do it. They'll just want to talk about _her._ ”

“I understand. I once had a mother.” Erik stared down at the crown of Tommy's head, patted his hair gingerly. “A long, long time ago. William, don't just stand there looking like a dried fish, help get your brother's clothes together.”

Billy jumped. “Right, yes. Noh-Varr, what do you need me to—”

“Find the good shoes, they should be in that bag over there. Erik—” Noh-Varr stopped. “I confess, this is not a situation I know how to handle.”

Erik frowned. “Do the Kree not grieve in the same way?”

“In theory we _can,_ but it's frowned upon, and when it would have been appropriate for me I didn't have the time. And unfortunately bloody vengeance doesn't seem to be an option here.”

Tommy snorted, his voice muffled by Erik's chest. “I'll keep that in mind for if my _dad_ shows up, babe.”

“You'll do nothing of the _sort,_ young man.” A beat. “Bloody vengeance is for _after_ the funeral.”

Tommy choked, and then laughed hysterically. “Oh my _god,_ Granddad.”

“I may have made a poor show of it when I tried to be a father, but I should think that I have at least a _few_ pieces of wisdom to pass on.”

“...I'm not your son, though.”

“No, Thomas. You're my grandson. It's entirely different. Now lift your chin and get changed, and we shall go shame your relatives into some semblance of decent behaviour.”

As Erik stepped away from Tommy, Noh-Varr took his place, pulling his husband into a sideways hug. “We will not send you into hostile territory without backup.”

“Found your shoes!” Billy waved them at Tommy. “What do you think, Tom? Will your aunt be more horrified if I put on an outrageous lisp or if I pretend to be a Communist?”

Tommy made another choking noise and then managed, in a semi-serious tone, “Do both. If we tell my uncle you're a gay Jewish _Communist_ mutant—”

“And pagan!”

“Right! We need to play this up. Jewish, pagan—”

“Communist, gay, married—”

“Oh god, right, married, he'll flip his shit, academic—”

“Mutant.”

Tommy took a shaky breath and grinned. “Suddenly I feel better about this. I can't wait to see the _looks_ on their faces.”

 

\--

 

“So. Mr...Noh-Varr.” Terry smiled brightly. “I hear you're a teacher?”

“Some of the time, yes. I lecture on intergalactic diplomacy at the Future Foundation twice a week, and I tutor at the Boys and Girls Club on Fridays.” Noh-Varr took a bite of his steak, his face almost expressionless. “Otherwise I am an engineer.”

Terry's husband John chuckled. “Inter- _galactic_ diplomacy, son? Where d'you go to study _that?_ ”

“I don't know where _other_ people go, but _I_ studied it as a member of the Kree Diplomatic Corps.”

Aunt Alice sniffed. “So, ah...Bill. Thomas says you're his...brother?”

Billy beamed at her. “It's a very complicated situation, ma'am.”

“Frank _did_ get around, didn't he,” she muttered, _almost_ too low to hear. “So of course you'll be coming to the service tomorrow.”

“Actually, no, ma'am. It wouldn't be appropriate.”

She frowned. “Why not? ...you're not a Methodist, are you?”

“No, ma'am. I'm a Jewish neo-Pagan.”

Alice went white, her gaze dropping to the linked stars at Billy's throat, and became quite silent.

Terry coughed. “So what've _you_ been doing with yourself, Thomas?”

There it was. The question they'd all been dreading. Tommy took a deep breath and forced himself to look away from his steak. “Actually, I'm in law school.”

His aunt's eyebrows shot up. “ _Really. Law_ school. Ah...what kind of law?”

“Mutant and non-human.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “I specialize in working with children and teenagers. Wouldn't want a repeat of what happened to _me,_ right?”

She winced. “Right, of course.”

One of Terry's children, a solemn-faced girl of eight or nine whose name Billy was having trouble remembering, had started tugging on Tommy's sleeve. “Cousin Tommy. Cousin Tommy.”

When Tommy looked down at his cousin his expression changed completely—he didn't quite smile, but his face looked _softer,_ less pinched and anxious. “Yeah, Mega-Bean?”

She giggled. _“Meghan.”_

“But you're so small. You're bean-sized. _Obviously_ you're a mega-bean. What's up?”

“ _I'm_ a mutant.”

Terry made a squeaking noise, her back stiffening, but Erik started speaking before she could. “Really? What do you do, young lady?”

“Meghan sweetie not at the _dinner table—_ ”

Too late. Meghan had already put down her napkin, gotten out of her chair, and turned a quadruple somersault from a standing start, _over_ the table, landing neatly on her feet on the opposite side. Then she bent backward—and into a complete circle, and then folded herself into a pretzel with both of her knees behind her head. “ _And_ I _bounce._ ”

Billy and Tommy clapped, Noh-Varr toasted her, and Erik was beaming. “ _Very_ impressive, my dear.”

Meghan looked thrilled. “You like it?”

“Of course I do. You have a unique gift.”

“Mom doesn't like it when I do it in public.”

Terry laughed nervously. “I just don't want you to hurt yourself, sweetie. Come finish your dinner.”

“Ok...” She returned to her chair, brow wrinkling in faint distress.

Erik watched her for a moment and then picked up several unused forks. “Here, my dear. Watch this.”

Meghan blinked. “Watch what?”

Her little brother—who Billy vaguely remembered was named Jack—looked up from his plate of macaroni and cheese and stared at him. “Are you gonna do a magic trick?”

Erik held up the forks and lifted his other hand, waving his fingers gently. The fork handles twisted together, the heads bent, and the tines splayed out, all moving in slow motion.

Jack shrieked with delight. Meghan stared, pop-eyed. “Wow.”

Smiling, Erik handed her the stainless steel flower. “Here. A gift. For a gifted young lady.”

Alice put down her knife very slowly. “Thomas, may I speak to you outside?”

 

\--

 

Outside:

 

“Thomas, is that who I _think_ it is?”

“I don't _know,_ Aunt Alice. Who _do_ you think it is?”

“I _think_ you brought a _terrorist_ to a _family dinner._ ”

“So? He's family.”

“ _We're_ your family.”

“Well, _yeah,_ but my family doesn't _end_ with you.”

“What does that even _mean,_ Thomas? We don't see you for _years,_ and then you show up with this...this _brother,_ and this _terrorist,_ and your _person._ It's like you've barely _thought_ about us.”

“ _Should_ I have? You _never_ thought about me.”

Alice opened her mouth—

“Look, no. No, shut up. You all just _watched_ me get packed off to jail. Didn't say a _word._ You _know_ it wasn't my fault. I don't even know how you _found_ me for _this,_ since you _definitely_ never tried to get in touch with me after the _major fucking explosion_ at the _jail you watched me go to._ ” Tommy rolled his neck. “And a lot of shit's happened since then. We live in a weird fucking world. I've seen things, I've been places, and I've found out that I have a _lot_ of unexpected relatives. But _that_ guy in there—” he leaned back and glanced into the function room, where Erik was now twisting a clean butter knife into a corkscrew for Jack, “ _he_ gives a shit about me. So does Billy. So does Noh-Varr. My _person,_ if we have to call him that.”

“I don't know what _else_ you want me to—”

“He's. My. _Husband._ We are _married._ ” He took a deep breath. “You said, family dinner. I brought my family. And if you can't handle that, too bad for you.”

She stared at him for a moment, thin-lipped and silent, and then said, “Whatever you want, Thomas. But I'll look forward to seeing you explain that to your father tomorrow.”

 

\--

 

The hotel bar was, surprisingly enough, still open when Noh-Varr reached the first floor of the hotel—dimly lit and silent, but still open. Even more surprising was that Erik was already there, seated at the bar with one hand curled loosely around a glass of scotch. His shoulders were hunched slightly, and in the low light he looked very old.

He looked up when Noh-Varr sat down next to him. “How is my grandson?”

“Billy's with him. Water, please,” to the bartender. “Sometimes he smiles. Sometimes he's angry. At one point he started crying. It's...very confusing.” Noh-Varr stared down at the dark wood of the bar. “It feels as if there's something I'm supposed to do, but I can't determine what.”

“Kree society handles these things differently, I imagine.”

“We don't handle things like this at _all._ Or at least, I do not. I never had a mother. _Or_ a father. I had the Marvel.” He frowned. “And when the crew was killed I didn't grieve. I fought. I was _angry._ ”

Erik put a hand on his shoulder, his own mouth turning down. “Take it from an old man who has lost much, my boy. Anger is a variety of grief, and it's as reasonable a response as any.”

“But Tommy _despised_ his mother. He's told me so more than once. She abandoned him to his prison. He said he didn't think she loved him.”

“Despised, yes, but she was still his mother. She was important to him. The people of Earth—humans and mutants alike—are a strange breed, and our emotions are complicated to the point of absurdity. Just because he hated her doesn't mean he can't also have loved her.” Erik took a sip of his scotch and huffed. “It's that _aunt_ of his that concerns _me._ People like her are _precisely_ the sort I have always tried to eliminate. _Humans._ Petty, childish, superstitious, easily frightened, easily _led_... _exactly_ why the world needs a guiding hand.”

At that Noh-Varr's mouth twitched. “Like you?”

“ _Or_ like you, my boy, you've got a _fine_ idea of how to run things.” Another sip of scotch. “This world is in a sorry shape.”

“Agreed...but if she offends you so much, why not _say_ something?”

Erik blinked. “Why, out of respect for my grandson, of course.”

“I don't understand.”

“We, all three of us, are here at _Tommy's_ request. We are here to support _him._ ” At Noh-Varr's baffled expression, Erik sighed. “Earth etiquette, my boy. We focus on my grandson while he is grieving his mother. He is not ready for vengeance, and it would be discourteous of me to disrupt his grief with my own crusade. I should...I should think I've already done that sort of thing enough for one lifetime.”

“I suppose we can come back and have a word with her once all this is over.”

“A much safer course of action.” Erik sighed again. “I'm an old man, Noh-Varr. And I've gone about many things in my life the wrong way.”

“There's been a lot of interference.”

“Oh, not _those_ things, my boy, I can still face down my old friend's legacy with the best of them. No, my regrets are _far_ more mundane. I was talking about my family.”

Noh-Varr's brow wrinkled. “Surely that's secondary, though? To the mission of improving the world?”

“Now see, it is _precisely_ that thought that has given me so much trouble over the years.”

“...I suppose I'd understand you if I had a family.”

“Don't you?” Now, finally, Erik smiled. “Well, you've married my grandson. I would happily consider you a part of mine.”

Noh-Varr went still in the middle of moving to take a sip. “I...I would be honored.”

“I can think of no finer heir to my dream for the world.” Erik raised his scotch in response to Noh-Varr's lifted glass. “Let's drink to high ideals and the proper guidance of the enlightened. And then we shall work up a plan of attack for dealing with that _aunt_ person.”

 

\--

 

It was cloudy, but not grey. Warm, comfortably so, but not hot. There was a light breeze, the air smelled sweet, and the sun wasn't too bright. It was, Billy thought, a good day to be dead, if you had to be. And he'd know; there _had_ been that one time.

They'd gotten Tommy into his suit very early in the morning; he hadn't managed to sleep, and luckily his speedster metabolism could compensate. They'd gotten breakfast and made him eat it. And then Billy and his grandfather had hugged him and headed to the local library to wait while Noh-Varr went with Tommy to the church service.

When they'd emerged from the church, Tommy looking drained and sad and Noh-Varr holding his hand and frowning in a puzzled fashion, Billy and Erik had followed the line of cars to the cemetery for the brief burial service.

And then...

Billy wasn't really sure what he'd expected of Frank Shepherd. A monster, maybe. A bearded redneck from a horror movie. Snidely Whiplash, or some other mustache-twirling type. A shorter Doctor Doom.

But Frank Shepherd was none of these things, just a tall, gaunt man with sandy hair and gin blossoms on his nose. He was wearing a cheap black suit and scuffed shoes, his hair wasn't combed, and he looked...guilty. Like he knew his presence was on some level unwanted. Billy almost felt sorry for the guy, until he saw Tommy look up, see him, and flinch back visibly.

Billy tensed, bracing for an explosion as Frank stepped toward Tommy and said, “Son.”

Tommy swallowed hard. “Frank.”

Other people were moving away from them, clearly giving the imminent eruption a wide berth.

“I, uh. I saw you on the television. You changed your name...I hear you're...a lawyer?” Frank's mouth twitched momentarily towards an ingratiating smile. “Little young for it, aintcha?”

“I'm still in school. But I go to court with Mr. Nelson a lot of the time.”

“Law school's pretty pricey, ain't it? I mean. You sure didn't get that money from _me._ ”

Tommy sneered. “No, my settlement covers most of it.”

“They, uh, they work you hard there?”

“Hard enough. But at least _there_ I get time off for good behavior.”

Frank winced visibly. “Yeah. Uh. About that. I didn't know, your, uh, your mother handled all the—”

“Don't you fucking blame her.” Tommy's voice was suddenly raw. “I _saw_ your fucking signature.”

“You—”

“Request for discovery, asshole. During the _lawsuit_ I had to file. I got copies. I know everything you signed off on. I saw _every fucking clause_ you initialed. You _knew_ what they were doing. And you didn't give a _shit._ ”

“I—yeah.” Frank stared down at his feet. “Guess I didn't. Guess there isn't any way I can say I'm sorry.”

“No, not really.”

Terry, who'd been hovering nearby, watching in horrified fascination, sort of _drifted_ over to Tommy's side. “Thomas, dear, maybe this isn't the place or the time—”

“Isn't any other place or time.” Tommy moved away from her. “Not after today.”

“Oh.” She looked startled, and then almost pleased, and moved away again, as most of the other funeral-goers dispersed.

Frank shifted. “I...on the TV...I hear you're a superhero now too?”

“When I get the time. Yeah.”

“Saw you on the news. Thought I recognized the hair.” He tried for another strained smile. “You dating that Bishop girl? She's pretty cute.”

Tommy stared at him and then reached over to take Noh-Varr's hand and said, slowly, “No, Frank. I'm not dating Kate Bishop.”

“That Miss America, then? Bet she's fun on a date. Got that Spanish fire.”

“Actually I'm married.”

Frank blinked, and sort of _tried_ to laugh. “To Miss America? And I didn't get an invite? I'm hurt.” He was smiling, but he looked like a kicked dog.

“No.” A pause. “Dad.”

“Yeah? ...son?”

“This is Noh-Varr.”

It took a moment for Frank to figure out what Tommy was saying, but then the smile dropped off his face. And all he managed was, “I always figured I'd have grandkids someday.”

“And I always figured I'd get to graduate from high school. Guess we're both disappointed.”

“Not ever what _I_ had in mind for you.”

“I should hardly think,” said Noh-Varr quietly, “that that's relevant.”

Frank stiffened. “ _You_ can stay the _hell_ out of my family's busi—”

_“No.”_

He reeled back. “Son?”

“He is _part_ of my family. My business _is_ his business.” Tommy drew himself up. “Look. I came here to say goodbye to Mom. I didn't want to. I didn't have to. She wasn't any better than you. But I did it.”

“I—”

“And I was willing to give you one last shot or else I would have just walked right past you.”

“But—”

“ _But._ But if you'd wanted any say in how I live my life, then maybe you shouldn't have signed those papers. Maybe you shouldn't have left me to rot in prison while scientists shot me full of drugs.”

Frank didn't even try to say anything at first, but then he straightened up and said, “Can't you even _try_ to be the bigger man? Thought I raised you better. Forgive and forget, right? ...Thomas, I'm your _father._ ”

“I could. I could try to forgive you.”

“So then—”

“But I don't have to. It's not required.” Tommy swallowed hard. “And you don't deserve it.”

“I'm...I'm your father.”

“Then you should have known better.”

Frank said nothing, just stared at him, red-faced.

“Do you need more time, my boy?” Erik and Billy had made their way over, finally, and Erik's face was solemn. “Or shall we be on our way?”

Frank's eyes lit on Billy and went wide. “Do...do I know you?”

Billy shook his head. “Don't think so, Mr. Shepherd.”

“...who's your mother?”

Tommy went stiff. “No, Granddad. I think I'm done here.”

“Did you just call him...?”

They turned, and Noh-Varr raised an arm—first to wrap around Tommy's shoulders and then, after a moment, lifting his hand to cover Tommy's eyes. “Let's go, _hala._ Don't look back.”

“Babe, I...I can't see where I'm going.” The tears were leaking in around the edges of Tommy's voice.

Billy crowded in on his other side, putting an arm around his brother's waist, and Noh-Varr said, “Trust me.”

Erik lingered for a moment, looking at Frank with something like pity, or sympathy. “I have alienated many loved ones in my life, Frank Shepherd, and many children.”

Frank stared at Tommy's departing back. “Does it ever stop hurting?”

Erik thought about it. “No. But I cannot say in hindsight that I disagreed with their choices.”

“...oh.” Beat. “Do you think he'll ever forgive me?”

“It's unlikely, but possible, I suppose. But in the interim...”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever bother my grandson again you will have to answer to me.”

 

\--

 

Aunt Alice stopped them just as Erik was catching up. She actually _wasn't_ frowning; she didn't look happy, but it was a different unhappiness, just the weary sorrow of someone in morning. “Thomas. Are you coming to dinner with everyone?”

Tommy ducked his head out from under Noh-Varr's hand. “No, Aunt Alice. I don't think I can.”

“I understand.”

“...you do?”

She smiled awkwardly. “Thomas, I hardly approve of your lifestyle choices, but you're still my sister's son.” At his half-smile, “And she always used to make that same face. ...do you have a...a business card?”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Your Aunt Terry wanted one. Meghan wants to try out for the gymnastics team at school; Terry thinks there might be some trouble. With her mutation, you know. You're the only lawyer we've ever heard of who specializes in that sort of thing.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” He dug his wallet out of his pocket, got out a couple of business cards, and handed them to her. “Tell...tell her I'll try to get her a family rate.”

 

\--

 

The next weekend they went to the beach again, the whole team. It was almost too cold to swim, but they managed it, splashing and yelling and having a lot of fun, though there weren't any games of Chicken. Lunch was Indian takeout, which _Billy_ got this time, since the assortment of boxes and bags required was easier to transport by teleportation than by running.

They spread all the takeout containers on the picnic blanket in an impromptu buffet, everyone fighting over the limited supply of papadoms and tasting every single thing they'd ordered.

In the middle of a mouthful of palakh paneer, Billy said, “We should do this more often.”

Eli blinked. “Do what?”

“Family dinners like this. Not necessarily on the beach, but we should all get together for dinner more often.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “This is a family dinner?”

“Feels like one to me.” Kate leaned across Teddy to grab a samosa, as he patiently held his plateful of rice and curry up out of the way. “We're all stealing each other's food, everyone talks at once, Missy's got sauce on her shirt...family dinner.”

“I've got _what?_ ...shit, this stain's going to take _ages_ to get out.”

“Don't worry about it, bubblegum. Hey, David, you know a way to get a curry stain out of a cotton-rayon blend?”

“Five or six.” David dodged Tommy's attempt to steal a piece of lamb off his plate. “I also know how to get a blood stain out of designer swimwear. Emma Frost.”

His attempt at food theft thwarted, Tommy leaned back, nestling into Noh-Varr's side. “Family dinner. I think I like that.”

“It's fairly pleasing to me.” Noh-Varr bent down and pressed his face into Tommy's hair. “And it seems only sensible, picking a family. Allowing chance and genetics to determine things seems very dangerous.”

Tommy thought for a moment and then raised his bottle of beer. “To the family you choose.”

Bottles clicked in mid-air. “To the family you choose.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...did you cry?
> 
> Comments would be appreciated. This story was...difficult.


End file.
